


Course Of Nature

by Pinkist



Category: DCU (Comics), Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Alya Césaire Ships It, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Minor Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, No alya bashing, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, no adrien bashing either, no salt no bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:49:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkist/pseuds/Pinkist
Summary: Hawkmoth joins a villain team called 'The Light,' and the vigilantes of Gotham must team together with Paris' heroes to put evil to rest. Unfortunately, Ladybug and Robin don’t seem to work too well together.(Rivals To Lovers)





	1. Chapter One: Pulling Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on tumblr @crowbarstodd

Patrolling with Robin was akin to pulling out teeth. Until this evening, Marinette wasn’t sure she could be so irritated by someone who wasn’t Lila; even Chloe had never made her head reel or her face flush in sheer outrage as much as Robin.

So far in their patrol, he’d gone off on his own a total of four times, all without telling her where he was going, made a Carpace – _kind_ and for the most part _relaxed_, Nino – stressed enough to retire early for the night because of his attitude, and had insulted her so many times she stopped keeping count.

She was sick of it – sick of _him_. He didn’t work well with others in the slightest, was arrogant and clearly had no respect for her as a hero.

But she was Ladybug, and Master Fu asked her to work with him, so for the time being, she’d suck it up and deal with the devil.

“You can step out of the shadows,” Marinette said in Robin’s general direction. She was jogging lightly, keeping her eyes firmly on the streets to check for danger. Paris sparkled at night, the ever-present glow both comforting and helpful, allowing her almost perfect vision when the sunset.

There was a faint tutting sound before Robin emerged from the darkness, scowl on his face. “It’ll be more effective if we have the element of surprise.” She wondered why he never smiled, especially when his fellow team member, Nightwing was a bag of laughs, at least according to Chat Noir.

Then again, Robin did work under Batman, and he seemed to communicate mostly through grunts… Did Robin even know how to smile at all?

“There’s nobody to surprise. Crime rates have been statistically proven to lower when heroes are in sight, and it’s good for public reception if we patrol out in the open.”

The biggest problem between herself and Robin, Marinette had come to realise; was that they were too different in their ways of being heroes.. While Robin valued mystery and darkness, Marinette understood the importance of visibility, accepting the responsibility that came with being more than just a symbol. The weight of being an idol on an impossibly high platform, constantly teetering over the edges, a second away from slipping. 

Robin believed that symbols were meant to stay as symbols. The less others knew, the more they wondered, the better. She could see the worth in his reasoning, but he was in Paris, not Gotham, and he needed to act like it.

Robin said nothing, simply releasing a grunt. The tips of his ears were red, illuminated by street lamps, and when he sped up so he was running ahead of her, he realised belatedly, that he might have been embarrassed by her easy correction. “Keep up!” He snapped.

He hadn’t bothered to turn around and check on her, if she’d slowed down because she was injured or distracted by something relevant he wouldn’t know until it was too late. He hardly looked at her at all the whole patrol. Briefly, she considered simply ditching him and running another direction, leaving him to patrol on his own.

A nudge at the back of her head, no doubt Tiki’s presence, warned her against that particular idea.

Instead of screaming or leaving like she wanted, Marinette resorted to rolling rolled her eyes. “It’s not a race, Robin.”

“Tt. You only say that because you’re losing.”

“Really now?”

Without warning, Marinette increased her pace, speeding past Robin and sailing over buildings with the agility and litheness granted to her by her miraculous. From behind her, she heard Robin release a swear as he tried to catch her. “Race you to the Eiffel tower!” She called, enjoying the way the wind whipped her hair back and whistled at her ears.

Sometimes, she had trouble believing that her identity hadn’t yet been discovered, especially when her lies were flimsy at best, and her disappearances all too convenient. But then, she would twirl effortlessly past hanging light features, and remember that her civilian self was an unusually clumsy mess, and she understood why nobody ever suspected her.

She raced Robin wordlessly; leaping from rooftop to rooftop, swinging over stray branches and ducking under street lamps. He was fast, she could admit, swift-footed, with a certain grace that came with years of practice, and just a dash of natural talent about his movements that most dancers would envy.

Marinette had none of that, but she could still admit her advantage. The miraculous was magic in that it hardly sapped at her energy — one of the many reasons why she was able to catch akuma’s and return to class a minute later without passing out when chemistry got too dry. It was easy to sprint at full speed when she knew she wouldn’t feel tired until she made it to the other side of the city.

She also knew Paris better, cutting through Alley’s, and knowing when to pass under instead of over. Robin seemed to realise this too, following closely after her, taking into account her short-cuts and easy-ways.

In the end, it came as a surprise to no-one, when she beat him to the Eiffel Tower.

She sat, legs dangling over the edge, waiting with a tongue out (she’s a very responsible and mature hero, really!) as her fellow hero landed beside her barely five seconds after.

“That was not an event test,” Robin said bitterly.

She had fully expected his comment, but found herself too surprised to come up with any witty retorts when he settled beside her. Sure, he was sitting at least three feet apart, but it was the warmest he’d been the whole night, so she’d take it.

Marinette held firmly onto the belief that there was goodness in everyone, and regardless of how demonic Robin was, she knew that even for someone like him, the rule stood.

So she did what she did best — what she was known to do as both Ladybug and Marinette. She held out an olive branch.

“True,” she admitted freely, relishing in the momentary surprise that painted his face, before his features quickly melted back into the same stoic expression he’d maintained the whole night. “But you never said there were rules…”

“Tt.” Robin’s eyes were blocked by the whites of his domino mask, but she could tell from the minute easing of his brows, and the way his jaw shifted, as if unclenching, that he found some amusement in her response.

Marinette was hardly the world’s leading expert in reading facial expressions, but well, Robin had an admittedly nice face (not nice enough to negate is asshole personality, just nice enough for her to be grateful he _was_ an asshole. She was jelly around Adrien back when she used to like him, she did _not_ intend to become distracted mush around her new partner just because he was nice and good looking. Luckily for her, he was only one of the two), and it seriously wasn’t her fault that lack of actual eyes to keep contact with as they spoke lead to her studying his features pretty often.

“I suppose you might have a point,” Robin relented. Marinate cheered internally. She knew he wasn’t completely heartless! “A rare occasion, it seems.” Okay, scratch that last thought.

Still, olive branches and second chances were her signature. “Well, special occasions need celebrating. Ice-Cream?”

Robin lifted his nose to the sky, sniffing a bit the same way he did when they first met. Wow, he looked like a total brat when he did that. “I don’t care for sweets.”

“That’s not a no,” she weaseled.

His chin tilted downward, just a tad, and he held his gaze on her face for just a second too long. “Hm,” he said at last.

“Great!” Marinate exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and tugging at it so he’d follow her. She let it go almost immediately, feeling a little stupid she’d done so in the first place — too used to the comforting and close partnership Chat offered — and promptly stepped off the tower, catching herself with her yoyo, and swinging herself to the next building.

She heard a clang, somewhere to her right, and watched as Robin followed after her, grapple hook presumably pulled out of the yellow utility belt around his waist.

Andrè was still awake, his little moving shop officially closing at twelve, knowing young couples often enjoyed their late-night rendezvouses. He smiled at her with familiar warmth, and gave them ice cream, predictably free (Andrè was well-liked amongst miraculous users for his free ice-cream, he was nice to Parisian heroes like that), though he did give them just a bowl to share rather than the usual two separate cones. From the knowing wink he gave them, she figured he’d simply come to the wrong conclusion and accepted it.

Andrè’s ice-cream was divine. Today, he gifted herself and Robin a double-scoop of dark chocolate and red velvet, a simple gift compared to what he usually came up with, but Marinette was grateful nonetheless.

“Your uniform is too obnoxious,” Robin said over the bowl. He had taken the first bite once she’d settled it between them on the police-station roof, and hadn’t complained or made his little tutting sound, so she guessed that he was at least somewhat enjoying it.

She raised a brow at him, not quite in the mood to raise her hackles and start another fight between them. Well, he’d be starting the fight, really he always started the fights! And now he was saying her uniform was obnoxious? “_My_ uniform is obnoxious?”

“Yes.”

“Robin you look like a walking traffic light.”

Robin’s head turned the other direction, clearly miffed at her insult. “The colours are part of the legacy,” he muttered, “have some respect. Most of the brightness is blocked by my cowl anyway.”

“Ladybug is a legacy too, bird-brain. The Ladybug is a symbol, it’s important that people see me.”

“The spots are gaudy _nnngghhh_!” He glared at her with crossed arms, spitting out the spoon she’d shoved in his mouth in a fashion that was rather dramatic.

“Better get used to them,” Marinette snarked, smirking at the sight of him with slightly puffed cheeks, furiously chewing at a mouthful of dark chocolate and red velvet. He was almost cute when he was quiet.


	2. Chapter Two: Actually, I'm Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LadyNoir are real best friends, and Marinette and Robin are back at each others throats

You can do it!”

“I really don’t think I can,” Marinette whined, sprawling over Chat’s lap lackadaisically, digging her elbow into his thigh and knocking his arm with hers by accident. 

He didn’t seem bothered, simply grabbing the handful of hair she had thrust in his hand and began braiding, making sure to stroke through her blue locks gently.

She pressed her cheek against his leg, enjoying the way his whole body seemed to thrum as he chuckled at her expense. “Yes you can,” he insisted, ever faithful. “You’re Ladybug!”

“Not without this mask I’m not.”

She winced at the resulting flick of his fingers against her exposed ear, pinching at his knee in retaliation. 

She smiled a little when he laughed, closing her eyes and basking in the moonlight. 

He’d seemed lighter as of late; happier, and she was sure his new patrol partner had something to do with it.

Under all his jokes and smart remarks, Chat was a bundle of affection and insecurities, eager to be unfolded. She hadn’t spent much with Nightwing at all, but she was grateful to him because her Chaton was flourishing under his tutelage. Now if only she could say the same about her partner.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Don’t eavesdrop then.”

Another ear flick, this time returned with a lazy backhanded swipe toward Chat’s general head area, missing completely. 

“I’m serious m’lady, you look… Not happy.”

Marinette shifted so that she was staring straight into Chat’s vibrant, green eyes. “Robin’s such a hard-ass.” 

Chat snickered, assumedly at her choice of wording and not at her distress. Hopefully. “I guess he hasn’t been tweeting you right, huh.”

Definitely laughing at her distress then. “He’s so annoying! I’m too loud, too slow, too small, and my costume is too obnoxious _apparently_!” 

Chat’s eyes softened, hands tugging lightly at the end of her new braid in his own brand of comfort. A little reminder of his presence. _I’m here. I’m on your side. _She heard his unsaid words loud and clear. “You’re not taking him to heart are you?” 

The lack of respect hurt her feelings, sure, but she had long since been exposed to bullies of all kinds, and it was frighteningly easy for her to simply let his words enter one ear and exit the other a moment after. “No, Chat.” 

“You’d tell me if he upset you seriously though, right?”

“Of course I would,” Marinette admitted. There wasn’t much she could hold back from her partner.

“I know he’s not ideal—“

“For real.”

“_But_,” Chat continued as if he hadn’t heart Marinette’s remark. “I think he can be better. I mean the way Nightwing talks about him… I think he’s just not the trusting type.” 

“I’m not sure how much I can handle, Chat,” Marinette admitted. It was hard for her to say out loud that she needed help as Ladybug. Marinette was a mess, but Ladybug had the world on her shoulders, and still kept them straight. Or at least, she was supposed to.

“Don’t lose yourself to him,” Chat warned, “I know you, Bug, and I know that no matter how much you struggle you won’t quit. But this isn’t something you can keep pushing through. If Robin keeps pushing you, we’ll just have to switch patrol buddies.”

Marinette almost sat up in shock. Chat admired Nightwing above anything, she would rather eat her shoe than make Chat lose such a valuable supporter. “No way!” She protested, heated. 

Chat pushed her back down with a finger on her temple. “Relax, Bugaboo, it’s just a precaution. Besides, _we’re a team_, okay? There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do to help my partner.”

Marinette could’ve cried right then, heart truly warmed by her partner’s words… But Chat always had something to say.

Shoving her off his lap, he climbed onto hers, yanking her hand and dropping it on his blonde crown. “It’s my turn now,” he said with a cat-like grin. “Last night Nightwing taught me how to do an elbow-strike!”

Marinette snorted, petting Chat’s hair softly as he spoke, letting each word wash over her like a fuzzy blanket, providing comfort.

* * *

“You’re late.”

“Actually, I’m Robin.”

Marinette huffed out a frustrated grunt, blowing stray strands of blue hair away from her face. “Last week you lectured me about the importance of time management.”

“Yes, and I’m pleased to know you remembered.”

“Robin.”

“You need to work on your interrogation voice. It’s hardly convincing.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed, patience growing incredibly thin. “_Robin_.”

_Mrrow_

A silence settled between the two of them. Robin had his typical spicy poker face, though Marinette could easily spot lines of tension on his face. 

She heard a meow, she was sure of it, but there was no way…

_ Mew_.

Oh my god.

“Robin are you hiding a cat?” Marinette couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. It was just so difficult to believe that the stone-hearted demon would actually do something like that.

Reluctantly, Robin lifted the side of his closed, black cowl. There was a flash of yellow, indicating a different material used for the inside of the cloak, and Marinette forced herself the push away the urge to ask. Instead, she watched as the inky black made way to display a slightly damp, light brown cat. 

Marinette melted at the sight. “A kitten!” She squealed.

“Don’t be foolish,” Robin snapped, “he’s fully grown.” 

“All cats are kittens, Rob,” Marinette informed him flippantly, holding the lovely thing gently in her arms. “You’re a baby aren’t you?” She cooed, absolutely delighted when it blinked up at her with large, brown eyes and yawned.

Robin frowned, but let her, sinking back into the shadows where he was more comfortable.

“I used to have a pet cat,” she told him, unsure why she was suddenly sharing a piece of herself with someone she hardly knew and hardly liked. “When I was six it got run over. I wanted to bury him, but my family didn’t have a backyard, so we had to let him go. I didn’t stop crying for weeks.”

Robin’s admission came after an extended silence, and was completely unexpected. “My grandfather ordered me to kill a kitten once. It was a white angora, barely three weeks old.”

Marinette felt bile climb her throat at the confession, suddenly lightheaded. What kind of monster would force a child to do something like that? What kind of childhood had Robin endured?

Any further contemplation escaped her mind when Marinette felt his arms wrap around her. His moves were stiff and rushed as if he hadn’t wanted to do them in the first place, and she’d been so stunned she hadn’t even 

“Huh?”

Robin cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting his mask. “Nightwing told me it was customary to exchange physical affirmations in the form of hugs when people exchanged secrets. Is that not the same in Paris?” 

Bubbles of laughter floated from her tummy and spilled out between her lips like a waterfall. “Yes,” she decides to say, still giggling between words. “It’s the same in Paris, Nightwing was right.” 

Robin tutted and crossed his arms, but under the faint glow of early morning sun, assisted by throbbing night-life lights, Marinette could see him glow just a smidge. 

Their small respite (dare she say, _bonding moment_), was interrupted by a muffled shriek, only a few meters away. 

They jumped into action instantly. Robin grabbed the cat from Marinette’s grip, tucking it somewhere inside his coat, leaping off the building, and into the street shortly after her. 

“Stop!” Marinette ordered, standing before a masked robber, holding a kitchen knife before his young victims. The kids looked to be barely in their pre-teens, scrawny and small; naturally easy targets. The robber was built like someone who had once been extraordinarily athletic, but in recent years, had only worked out sparingly. Still, he was much larger than her, and from his growls, she could tell he was also much angrier.

The robber didn’t have much choice other than to stop when a black blur landed on his shoulders, yanking his entire body backward and onto the ground. The children shrieked, and Ladybug acted instinctively, leaving Robin with the perpetrator, grabbing a child in each arm, and swinging away from the sight.

They were young boys, and upon closer examination, she recognised one to be her classmate, Alix Kubdel’s younger cousin, Oliver. At least she knew where to drop them off, seeing as they were shaking too much to respond to her properly, and the other young boy was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen to you while I’m patrolling okay? I’m gonna drop you both off at Oliver’s house, is that alright?”

Oliver squeaked, hiding his face behind his hands. “You know me?”

“Sure do, Ollie-boy, I saved you from some loose zoo-animals once didn’t I?”

His friend looked up at her with awed eyes, no longer trembling. “Woah,” he whispered.

Marinette wasn’t heartless enough to drop them off at the doorstep, instead waiting by them until Oliver’s mom’s answered the door, and wrapped both boys up in large hugs, promising to call Matthew’s parents for her. She made a mental note to try and remember Matthew’s name, just as she did with each citizen she met as Ladybug. 

When she returned to the crime scene, Robin was standing above the robber’s unmasked body, tying his arms behind his back.

Robin didn’t look at her, though she knew he heard her land beside him. “I’ve called the cops,” she informed him.

“Tt.” Great, he was pissy again.

“What is it?”

Robin made a sound from the back of his throat that sounded like a mix between a grunt and growl. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger. You should _never_ jump right in front of the attacker, and to jump into danger and just _stop_? You hadn’t even disarmed him. What if he had other weapons? Or he threw his knife?”

“He wasn’t going to,” Marinette replied, brows raising at the bitter edge to Robin’s voice. “He was holding a kitchen knife, this was probably his first gig. I was safe.”

Robin turned to face her fully, mouth set in a deep frown, shoulders raised in clear anger. “Safe? How could you know that? There’s no guarantee of safety in our line of work, you must be naive to even think so.”

Marinette took a step closer, blood beginning to boil. “Thank you for your concern, Robin, but I think I’m qualified enough to assess a situation. I wasn’t in any danger.”

Robin strode forward, poking Marinette hard on the chest as he spoke. “You are blind to the privilege your miraculous grants. Wake up and realise that there are cities, countries, continents that are outside the reach of your little fix-it spell. You don’t understand danger because with your magic, you’ve never truly felt it.”

His words felt like a slap in the face. How could he say she didn’t understand danger when at least four times a week she had to combat a psychological terrorist and his creations? Because he had no powers he understood more than her? No, that wasn’t right and she knew it.

“I don’t think you get to decide what I know about danger for me!” She shoved him back and hissed under her breath when he barely moved. Her heart was beginning to beat erratically, pumping righteous fury in the place of blood with every second that passed.

“If you understood then you wouldn’t have left in the middle of an arrest!”

“It’s not an arrest if you’re not an officer, idiot! Besides, civilians are the priority and you were scaring them!” Their foreheads grazed with how close they were standing, practically screaming at each other’s faces. She had half a mind to lose control and deck him where he stood, but her ever-present concern of being akumatised reminded her of potential consequences if she completely submitted to her feelings. 

“Excuse me?”

Marinette leaped away from Robin, suddenly realising the lack of distance between them. Officer Roger Raincomprix stood at the end of the alley, a silver pair of handcuffs clutched in his grip, as he scanned the two of them with quizzical eyes. “I’m here to make an arrest,” he explained. 

Robin nodded, pointing at the man on the ground with his chin. “Take him.” And with those final words, he edged back into the shadows and disappeared from Marinette’s view, probably to sulk.

It was two steps forward one step back with him. Not even an hour ago she was beginning to enjoy his presence, but now she was back to ripping hair from her head out of frustration. 

She aimed a scowl at the direction he ran off in, feeling confused and angry all at once.


	3. Chapter Three: Tales Of Plum Dacquoise

When she was seven years old, Marinette was grounded for the first time. It was nothing big; no television for a whole day, but the events leading up to it stuck with her as she grew.

It was early spring and the bakery her parents ran had been up for only four months, bringing about a slew of changes her younger self was hardly prepared for. One of the worst of which (_worst_ being subjective to the temperament of her seven-year-old-self) was the plum dacquoise.

Dacquoise was typically made with hazelnuts and almonds, a delicious combination in their own right. But the addition of the tarty fruit taste of fresh plums was heaven on her tongue.

Plum dacquoise was her favourite cake — her favourite dessert. It was, in the Dupain-Cheng household, _her_ cake. So when she found her father baking it one morning, she let herself dissolve in delight like sugar in water.

The plum dacquoise sat on the bakery display case, and not once did her parents offer her a slice. Instead, as 7pm rolled around, they gave it to Mrs. Bisset in a pink box, tied shut with a white bow.

Marinette cried.

_Her_ cake was in the hands of some evil stranger and her parents smiled as the witch exited the bakery. Exited the bakery with _her_ cake.

She didn’t understand, and her parents didn’t understand her anger, not until she lobbed a plum at her own father’s head, shrieking her head off the entire time.

“I didn’t realise, sweetheart,” her father said, holding her tight in his arms, both apologetic and drained. “But you have nothing to be jealous about.”

They still sold the cake, it would be silly not to when it was undoubtedly a bestseller, but they did rename it ‘Marinette’s Dacquoise,’ and she was content to settle for that.

(Her parents, however, weren’t and promptly sent her to her room and told her not to even think about asking to watch_ Totally Spies_ when she was naughty enough to throw a fruit at her dad.)

* * *

Marinette didn’t notice the nail marks on the palms of her hands until Alya pointed them out during class the next day. “Girl! She gasped, running a smooth thumb over the blistering marks, “what happened?!”

She had got a well of bad excuses to offer so she faked a laugh and offered the easiest one. “I guess I must have gotten too stressed about designing and managed to do this without realising.”

Alya shot her a look, one that made it obvious her best friend knew she was lying, but wouldn’t ask out of respect, and the fact that she had her own secrets, leaving Marinette to stew in guilt and whatever other feelings her inevitable zone-out introspection uncovered. Coming late at least had the perk of avoiding questions and over-thinking. Not that she was excusing her usual temporal tendencies, but kwami she really could have had a pleasant morning if she just let herself sleep in again.

The indents on the inside of Marinette’s hand were a faded pink, and if she was careful, they would be gone within the next three days. Stupid Robin. Sure, he didn’t press his nails against her skin, but if he hadn’t been so infuriatingly overbearing, she wouldn’t have hurt herself thinking about him. No, not thinking — _fuming_ about him.

Alya’s focus on her new injuries was abated when Nino walked into the classroom, complaining loudly to a mildly bemused looking Adrien. “And all he does is get mad at LB. That’s _so_ not cool man. I mean, at least I heard he did anyway.”

Interest peaked, Alya inserted herself into their conversation. “Who gets mad at Ladybug?”

“That new hero,” Nino frowned, “Lark or whatever — the bird one. I heard he’s like, mad rude.”

Marinette raised her brows at his words. He’d patrolled with her and Robin earlier in the week so _she_ knew that _he_ knew Robin’s name. She wasn’t sure if his sudden forgetfulness was to enforce his civilian cover, but she had a feeling he was at least slightly motivated by spite. Robin hadn’t been kind to him at all, reacting to all his friendly advances with harsh words and cold looks.

Adrien placed a placating hand on Nino’s shoulders as they sat. “Maybe he just seemed rude. Nobody’s really met him yet, and he might be nicer than you think.”

It was pretty typical of Adrien to try and play peacemaker, but this time Marinette winced, knowing that they were the complete wrong words to say. “I’m just saying what I saw!” Nino insisted, “but that new hero shouldn’t be wandering around Paris. He’ll cause more Akumas than he’ll stop.”

Alya leaned forward and tapped on her desk, looking far too used to Nino’s rant. “Watch what you say,” she warned. “Ladybug probably picked him like she picked most of the new heroes, I’m sure she wouldn’t choose someone for no reason.”

Alya’s argument was presented with mild boredom, as if she was repeating an argument. Marinate figured she probably was, seeing how Alya and Nino knew of each other’s identities. and she tried not to feel bad knowing she’d caused two of her friends such grief all while resisting the urge to bang her head on the table. Yeah, in no universe would she pick someone like _him_.

“No way,” Nino said, “Ladybug _hates_ him!”

Marinette defended him without thinking. Sure he was controlling and arrogant, and they were more like tectonic plates on a collision course than actual partners, but she didn’t _hate_ him. “Maybe it’s because you don’t know a lot about him yet,” she suggested. “Besides, how would you even know if Ladybug hated him?”

Adrien nodded as if she had made a very good point, which she would have if she didn’t know exactly why Nino thought Ladybug would hate Robin. Poor Carpace had been caught in the middle of a particularly turbulent screaming match between herself and her new bird-brained companion, and had suffered from their tempestuous personalities the most. Yeah, she felt a little bad pushing him into the corner like this, but her stomach stirred, unsettled, the more she heard Nino talk bad about Robin.

“He might turn out to be a really good guy,” Marinette continued. “If he was so bad, why would he waste his time helping people?”

Truth be told, Robin was the opposite of a really good guy. He was terrible, and yet Marinette found that it gnawed on her when someone other than herself was spitting insults about him behind his back.

It’s because she knew him, or at least knew him the best out of the Parisian heroes, she thought. (On some level, she was aware that this was probably not the only reason for her discomfort, but she wasn’t particularly keen on exploring that certain part of her brain, so she shoved it aside and left it alone with all her other, more minor issues.)

Marinette was more than a little relieved when Miss Bustier entered the room, timely as ever, calling for class to begin.

* * *

Six heroes sat cross-legged around a small, round tea-table, and all Marinette could think was how the whole situation felt like a set-up for a joke.

Across from her was Batman, sipping tentatively from Master Fu’s ceramic cups, struggling to fit more than three fingers into the handle. It was unsettling to be in his presence, more so now in the stifling silence than the first time they’d met when she and Robin had been a second away from hurtling furniture at each other. The whites of his mask blocked out his eyes completely, the same as Robin and Nightwing, though with Batman it looked far more threatening, making him appear like some sort of spectre or creature of the night. (A cryptid, the stranger part of her brain supplied.) 

Marinette took the quiet moment as a chance to finally inspect her new allies’ outfits. She recognised some materials used; the very obvious skin-tight kevlar that Nightwing and Batman preferred, durable and bulletproof. (When was the last time she’d even seen a gun in Paris? They were removed probably a month after the first Akuma, she’d genuinely forgotten they were real concerns outside France.) The inside of Robin and Batman’s cowls were Nomex or something similar, though upon closer inspection she realised that the capes didn’t look quite so loose or light, appearing firm for some unknown reason. Marinate itched with the urge to ask what material and fabrics they used.

She mapped their costumes out in her mind, imagining how she’d sew kevlar together, black and dyed blue to form the abstract shape of a bird, or how she’d construct the shape of Batman’s helmet (did it even have a specific reason for being bat-shaped?) with a styrofoam head of her own design for there was no way a typical store would sell a bat-shaped bust.

“We’ve decided to work with the League on this situation,” Batman announced, pulling her from her thoughts, finally breaking the silence with a small ‘clink’ as he set his cup down. “We’ll be working in units to dismantle The Light player by player. The Miraculous holders of Paris and the heroes assigned to Gotham will be working against Hawkmoth and Queen Bee. Do not attempt to engage with other major players, the League has it handled. Further instructions will be given at the appropriate time.”

He said it as if he expected them all to accept it. Marinate didn’t even know what _The League_ was. If she was sure of anything, it was that she was sorely disappointed, as the announcement had killed any chance of her working with Wonder Woman in the future. Unless the Amazon unexpectedly moved to Gotham? Was that even allowed?

It didn’t escape her notice how Robin absorbed the new orders quietly, accepting it with a simple nod like some sort of soldier, though he was very obviously scowling, as if offended by something Batman had said or done.

Nightwing groaned at the announcement, slouching in his seat. “There’s no chance of you telling us about the other teams is there?”

“The more you know, the more dangerous it is if you get compromised,” Batman grunted. “Focus on your mission.”

Master Fu hummed in agreement, refilling teacups as though this was a quaint Sunday tea and not an official hero briefing. Marinate admired him for it.

“When you say Miraculous holders of Paris…”

“Yes,” Master Fu said, answering her unfinished question, “we will be needing help from at least three other heroes. I’m sorry Ladybug, but this time I took the liberty of choosing them.” He opened his palm to pass over three miraculous’.

From her peripherals, she spotted Robin lean forward slightly, obviously curious, but still too stiff to be clear with his emotions. Chat had no such qualms, invading her private space so he could have clear view of the jewelry. He spluttered out a surprised squawk, turning his head to watch her reaction, then turning it back to the jewellery, oscillating rigidly like a broken fan.

In Master Fu’s palm, three miraculous’ sat, gleaming softly as the metal reflected the yellow lights of the living room. The turtle and the fox were unsurprising, expected even. It was the bee that had shocked both herself and Chat into silence.

“Queen B?” Marinette asked, disbelieving. “Are you sure Master? I thought it was unsafe for her to continue?”

Chloe was stubborn at best, and though she’d taken steps to improve since she’d first become a hero, she really wasn’t somebody Marinette would trust to save the world.

Master Fu hummed, taking his time to respond to her questions as usual. “It took a lot of deliberating,” he admitted, “but we need her tenacity.”

She took the Miraculous’ from his, still unsure, but trusting of his judgment. “If you really think so…”

“Woah, so they _all_ have different powers?” Nightwing’s voice broke through the cotton building in Marinette’s head, and she took a moment to admire his vivacity. It was easy in their line of work to fall into sullenness, but he seemed energetic and friendly beyond belief, she couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah, he would be great for her Kitty.

“Sure thing,” Chat said, “Except for Ladybug, she has two abilities, and Paris would be lost without her wielding them.”

She shoved Chat’s shoulders lightly, though it was obvious that she was pleased with his compliments. “Paris needs the cat too,” she said, speaking frankly. “The best offense a miraculous could provide.”

“Definitely seems like it,” Nightwing agreed readily. “The cat is the best one for sure.”

More delighted at his praise toward her partner than offended at his obvious disregard of her, Marinette beamed at his words, glancing at Chat to discern his reaction. Her partner was staring at the older hero as if he had hung the moon himself and declared it belong to Chat.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

There was something else there, something that Marinette was missing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to pry when Chat was glowing so bright he outshone the sun.

“You really are the best,” she said instead of asking. She wasn’t totally sure what they were on, but her friend more than deserved the reassurance she often forgot to give him, and now was as good a time as any.

Robin tutted loudly, fuse blown by something that had happened during the exchange, though she didn’t know what, storming off. He was polite enough not to slam the door, knowing he was a guest at Master Fu’s house, but Marinette didn’t miss the way he pressed harder on his steps on purpose so that his stomps were heard loud and clear.

Marinette recognised the heated exit; the wordless anger and the need to attract attention. It reminded her of plum dacquoise.

The silence that followed was tense and confusing.

“Sorry about him,” Nightwing said, though Robin was neither his fault or his responsibility, at least in Marinette’s mind.

Master Fu and Batman had left sometime in their conversation, Jasmine tea cold indicating that they were long gone (there was no way Master Fu would ever let tea turn cold in his presence) and Marinette appreciated the small victory. At least there was no adult to lecture them about whatever it was that just transpired.

Chugging the rest of his tea, Nightwing stood. He worried his lip, obviously concerned about Robin, eyes flickering from the door to Chat. “I have to go get him,” he said.

It was Chat’s turn to patrol that night with his new partner, which was the _only_ reason Marinette let herself say, “I’ll go.”

Unwilling as she was to do it, she wouldn’t quit until she’d calmed him down or sent him home safely. (Not that she knew where he lived, but he’d be fine in a tree of sorts, he was a bird after all.) Something told her he wouldn’t settle for a simple re-naming, or anything _simple_ at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone’s jealous~!
> 
> Hope you guys liked this chapter! The next one is gonna be a bit of a monster though it will feature a splash of Tikki, Tim and Alya, and more civilian Mari. I feel like this story is taking so long to fully set up, I want MariDami to be friends already but hhhhh,,, development. 
> 
> I sort of wanted to pick Deathstroke or Ra’s instead of Queen Bee so it’d be more personal but she just worked better with the plot that I wanted to write so rip.
> 
> The Queen Bee thing gets resolved in two chapters so hold ur horses pls bare with the temporary name confusion.


	4. Chapter Four: The Involuntary Milk Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *banging pots together* DAMINETTE! DAMINETTE!

Rena Rogue gagged as soon as she opened an aging door, hands covering her nose and mouth as she took a large step back. “This place stinks!”

Marinette felt inclined to agree with Rena Rogue, nose wrinkling as a foul stench invaded her nostrils, so strong her eyes stung from unshed tears. “You’ll have to get used to it,” Marinette said regretfully, “we’ll be spending some time here.”

Rena moaned, edging inside carefully, nose still pinched between two fingers.

The little off-white townhouse they’d been sent to investigate in Paris’ nineteenth arrondissement was almost charming at first sight. It sat trapped between a high fence marking the end of the street, and a baby-pink, connecting unit with a strip of green at the front only just large enough to fit a few common elder hedges.

The place itself was only slightly overrun by weeds, not enough to appear unseemly, which was probably why it was left alone by most of the unsuspecting neighbours. Marinette herself would have overlooked it completely had it not been for the large mold stain on the bottom right side of the door, and the putrid stench that coated the home. Oh, and the mission sent by Batman and Master Fu.

The inside was drowned in dust and rust, and none of the lights would turn on, so she and Rena resigned themselves to exploring the place with the limited light their torches provided.

“This is literally the worst villain hideout. Unhygienic and unaesthetic is what this place is,” Rena griped, searching through shelves for anything that looked mildly useful.

“There’s no proof this was a hideout. Just that Queen Bee sent a package here about two months ago.”

Rena stopped in her tracks. “Queen Bee? Like, Chloe?”

“No, like the politician.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

Marinette sighed, tilting her head to the sky, eyes shut. “I thought Chat gave you a debrief?”

“Sure, but he didn’t use any names. Just said that another villain sent a package probably for Hawkmoth.”

Wily cat, making her do all the annoying jobs. She’d get him neutered the next time she saw him. “Queen Bee is a corrupt Bialyan leader, part of the light.”

“So not Chloe?”

“Not Chloe,” Marinette confirmed.

“What do we call Chloe then?”

Tired of the conversation, and without any real answers to give, Marinette returned to searching the room for clues. “Call her whatever you want, Rena.”

“Bitch it is!”

“No.”

She zoned out Rena’s following playful whinges, focused on the wooden desk that sat alone in the otherwise empty room connected to the living room that Rena was investigating.

With careful hands she pulled the drawer of the desk open, worrying her lip as her heart pumped with excitement. Where else would one keep a package but their desk?

It was empty.

Disappointed, she shut it closed, only to hear Rena’s resounding shriek.

The living room was a mess of white.

An upturned milk bottle appeared to have fallen from atop the cupboard above the stove. It must have been balancing precariously already, relying on the shut door for stability, and tipping over when Rena pulled the cupboard open.

She stood in the center of the kitchen, an orange lighthouse in a sea of white, utterly drenched, and completely miserable.

In her hands, Marinette spotted something promising.

“Is that a USB?”

“Are you okay Rena? That sucks for you Rena, but don’t worry too much about it,” Rena muttered, peeved.

Marinette scratched the back of her head and let out an awkward laugh. “Sorry. You alright, Rena?”

“I’m drenched in milk, LB. But I found a USB and I managed to keep it dry.”

Marinette cheered under her breath, getting closer to inspect the gadget. It was a simple single-toned grey stick, made by LexCorp. “Only four gigabytes?” She mused aloud, expecting something more monumental.

Rena paid her no mind, wringing her hair over the sink, and yelping when the water that poured out of it was brown in colour. “Ugh, I should have just let Chat take this mission,” Rena grumbled. “Might have even enjoyed the milk.”

Marinette shrugged, a lazy smile painting her face. “I don’t think anyone’d enjoy an unexpected milk-bath, Rena, even silly kitty’s like him.”

Rena shook her leg clean, watching with wry eyes as droplets splashed onto the floor. “You always call him Kitty or Chaton,” Rena commented. “It’s kind of cute.”

If it was Carapace saying it, Marinette wouldn’t have batted an eye, but Rena was sort of pushy, and undeniably not-so-secretly interested in Ladybug’s (love) life. Marinate could see the teasing glint in Rena’s eyes and hear the mischief in her voice, enough to get what she was suggesting.

“Yes I do,” Marinette agreed. “Because we’re partners.”

“You don’t have nicknames for me!”

Marinette raised a brow. “You’re not my partner,” she sung.

Rena pouted, jutting her bottom lip out dramatically enough that for a second, Marinette saw her mask disappear and make way for her best friend who she knew was behind it. She’d never say it aloud, lest it encourage her friend’s more _dangerous_ habits (running headfirst into attacks without a mask or protection) but Alya’s determination and vivacity had always been qualities that Marinette admired. That, and how _lush_ her thick locks always seemed to be.

“What about your new partner then? Lark?”

Marinette snorted. Guess Alya held some second-hand anger on her boyfriend’s behalf after all. “You mean Robin?”

Rena rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah sure, Robin.”

“What about him?”

“Well if not Chat, then?” Rena trailed off, but Marinette was sharp enough to know what she’d been suggesting.

Involuntarily, her cheeks burst bright red. Memories of last night that she’d tried so hard to forget — moonlight, a surprising confession, and _lips_ —nope! She shook the thoughts out of her head, bringing her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to cool them down.

“Oh my god! Girl!”

“N-no!” Marinette stuttered out, adamant to explain things before Rena got the complete wrong idea. “It’s not like that! I don’t like Robin! Not even in a friend way!”

“_Clearly_ not in the friend way! Girl, does he know?”

Stupid Robin. Stupid dumb Robin and his stupid dumb lips and their stupid dumb conversation and the terrible, awful, cringe-inducing, stupid-dumb ending to last night! “No! Alya!”

“What happened to no secret identities on the field? I don’t even know yours so you’ve got an advantage there.”

“I don’t think that’s the point, Rena.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “The point is are you gonna tell him?”

“No, there’s nothing romantic happening at all!”

Knowing better than to push when Marinette was sure she looked ready to explode, Rena simply wiggled her brows cheekily and returned to searching for hints. “Okay LB,” she said as she passed, patting Marinette on the shoulders almost patronisingly.

Marinette had to bite her lip to prevent a scream.

Perusing the little unit was much less eventful than either of the two girls expected, and in the end, they found nothing of use apart from the single USB stick that Rena had risked milk-dousing for.

“Literally the worst hour of my life,” Rena commented, inhaling deeply when they finally locked the rotting door behind them. “Never again.”

“You okay to get the USB to Master Fu by yourself?”

“Sure thing Ladybug. You go ahead and get your Z’s, you’ve got patrol tomorrow night as well.”

Marinette moaned at the reminder. Damn, and she was getting excited to make a new dress-shirt too.

* * *

School the next day was interesting, to say the least. The class was abuzz, all gravitating around Chloe’s desk where she was sat bragging (no surprise there) about some celebrities her dad’s hotel was hosting.

“The Waynes are _ridiculously_ famous and important,” the blonde said, leaning back against her chair as if she didn’t care at all. (She cared very much, and wasn’t as good an actress as she thought she was, Marinette noted.) “Bruce Wayne is like, the most eligible bachelor, and he brought three of his sons with him!”

“Three?” Marinette mumbled under her breath, taking her seat beside Alya. “Why does she say it like he has more?”

“He has five,” Alya supplied helpfully, flashing her a smile in greeting.

Soon enough Alya’s head was down, and her chemistry notes were out, but it was obvious that she was paying more attention to what Chloe was saying than what was on her page, but a tad too prideful to admit to herself that Chloe had anything of particular worth to say.

Chloe’s voice was loud enough that Marinette could join her friend in pretending to overhear, rather than listen to the blonde. “They’re going to be staying at _my_ daddy’s hotel for two weeks,” she boasted.

“Wow Chloe, that’s so cool!” Rose awed. Even from the other side of the room, Marinette could stars forming in her eyes. It was like Prince Ali all over again. “I’d love to meet them! I heard the Wayne foundation helps hundreds of people every year, and that Dick Grayson is nice to everyone!”

She nudged Alya lightly with her elbow. “Dick Grayson?”

“Eldest son, I think.” Was Alya’s simple reply.

Chloe sneered, “someone like him would want nothing to do with _you_.”

“Well, I’m going to say hi anyway!” Rose replied hotly, learning from last time. Her chest puffed out in pride, leaving her to look like a bright pink penguin, but Marinette was happy for her. It looked like she wasn’t going to let Chloe talk her down anymore.

Chloe opened her mouth, probably to dish out an insult, but straightened as if remembering something important. “Fine,” she said instead. “Do what you want.”

Alya raised a brow and made a face that looked to a cross between impressed and disbelieving.

In a weird way, Marinette felt almost proud. Sure, each awful word out of Chloe’s mouth gave her some sort of vindication (who doesn’t love being right?) that always lead to her feeling guilty, but every time Chloe acted politely, _against_ Marinette’s expectations, she was being influenced by Ladybug. There was something humbling about seeing her impact on the small scale, however minute it was.

“Will you all come with me?” Rose asked, wide eyes directed at the girls of the class.

Don’t look, Marinette urged herself. The moment she looked into Rose’s big Bambi eyes she’d be gone, and however much she loved Rose she _needed_ to go to bed before patrol that night.

“Please?”

“Sure thing, Rose!” Alya agreed. “Marinette and I’d be happy to come.”

Raising her head to refute Alya, Marinette found herself staring right into Rose’s baby blues. Crap. “Yeah Rose, I’d love to come!”

Marinette’s mouth moved faster than her mind, and by the time she’d realised what she had done it was far too late. Rose had already turned to ask Alix.

God, if only Rose was a tablespoon less cute.

(“You’re going to see Dick Grayson? Can I come? I love Dick Grayson!

“Sure, Kim!”)

* * *

Dick Grayson really was nice to everyone he met, and it didn’t take long for Marinette to understand why all of Paris seemed to swoon over him.

He was charming, had eyes bluer than blue, and a smile that looked so familiar, Marinette could have sworn she’d seen it directed at her before. Really truly, he was great. But all she could focus on was the screaming that was happening somewhere further down the hotel that nobody else seemed to care about.

Marinette inched backwards until she was out of sight, bolting down the nearest corridor, following the sound the best she could.

Tikki peeked out from inside her bag, gazing at her with questioning eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to transform, Marinette? It doesn’t sound very good.”

“I just wanna check first, Tikki. It might not be an attack.”

It wasn’t one. What she’d mistaken for innocent lives threatened by some Akumatised being was, in fact, two boys screaming at each other in the hotel hallway. Or rather, one boy screaming as the other responded, just as heated, but not as loud.

“You will regret this, Drake!” The shorter boy seethed at the other, who stood across from him, clearly unimpressed, back slouched and left hand in his corduroy pants.

The taller one, Drake, raised his hands in apparent frustration. “It’s a _room._ You’ll just have to settle with sharing with Jason.”

“_I _had the room with Grayson first. Return it immediately!”

“You sound like a brat.”

The shorter boy huffed, launching a well-aimed kick at the taller boy’s head, which he somehow managed to block, hand still in his pocket. “Your attack will be returned tenfold,” the shorter one announced, leaving ‘Drake’ alone at last. Marinette squeaked as he walked in her direction, slipping around the corner as his eyes narrowed.

He didn’t seem to care though, walking out of the hotel without another look back.

Concerned about a potential Akuma victim, she trailed after him.

She felt childish to have been lulled in such an obviously false sense of comfort, but she was genuinely surprised when he disappeared from her sight after exiting the hotel, only to reappear behind her. He had one hand around both her wrists, keeping her from fighting back with her arms.

“What business do you have following me?”

Marinette spluttered, struggling not to let her eyes dart to her bag in concern as she felt Tikki’s concerned shudder. “I was just making sure you were okay!” Marinette insisted. “I just didn’t want you to get akumatised!”

He let go of her wrists, but his eyes were still in slits, and his knees were bent as if ready to bolt at any given chance. “Explain yourself,” he demanded.

He was pretty snooty if Marinette was being honest, but she supposed she’d be paranoid too if someone was following her. “If you get too upset, Hawkmoth will be able to use you to destroy the city,” Marinette explained, omitting some important parts about certain Miraculous’. It was weird he didn’t know any of this yet. “Are you new here or something?”

The boy sniffed in disdain. “My family landed here this morning.”

This morning…

Marinette gave his outfit a quick once-over.

Black skinny jeans; Givenchy, black shoes; Armani, Burberry jacket, and Wayne-Tech watch. Wayne tech phone peeking out from his pocket too… Rose was going to be so jealous.

(His target-brand Nightwing t-shirt confused her, though.)

“You must be a Wayne!” Marinate exclaimed, extending her hand to greet him. “I’m Marinette.”

He looked at her hand with a raised brow.

He didn’t move until her face shifted into a glare. “Damian.”

He was a little rough around the edges, but he was also mad, and she wouldn’t be Ladybug if she left some innocent person alone to be akumatised. “Nice to meet you, Damian. Do you like ice-cream?”

“I’m not fond of sweets.”

“I’ll find something for you.”

She grabbed his wrist, ready to tug him along, when he snatched his hand right out of her grip. “Unhand me!” He bellowed, looking angry again. Marinate wanted to slap a hand on her forehead, feeling idiotic for upsetting him even further.

“I’m not going to do anything weird, I promise. I just want to take you to my family’s bakery, get you some tea or something to calm you down.”

He looked on the verge of protest, but she must have said something right because he deflated soon after. “Some tea would be acceptable.”

They sat across from each other on the table nearest to the front window, seats comfortably cushioned with little round pillows that were decorated with flowers; one of Marinette’s own creations.

The bakery was one of her favourite places in the world. Little personal splashes made the place warm, from the cushions she’d made, the three small tables on the right side of the bakery for inside dining that she’d suggested herself, and the small red stain on the underside of the front counter that she’d created by spilling dye while making red-velvet cupcakes. She and her mom had spent almost an hour trying to remove any traces of it, but that little mark, shaped like a coma, was far more stubborn than either of them. 

He liked rice tea, she learned. Rice tea and plum dacqouise.

Well, he never said he liked plum dacquoise, but he clearly didn’t dislike plum dacquoise. Her dad had asked if he’d like anything else with his tea, and when he looked to her for suggestions, there was one thing she couldn’t _not_ recommend.

“I’d like the Marinette,” he’d said, voice frank. Her heart had pounded at how the sentence sounded, but she didn’t correct him or mention it in case it’d embarrass him. He wasn’t a native speaker after all, so it was impressive enough he could maintain a conversation and order all on his own.

“It’s my favourite cake,” she informed him after his first bite. He replied with a ‘hn.’

Easy silence befell them as Damian sipped his tea, looking out the window with slight interest. She was eating his cake, well _her_ cake that _he_ bought, content to sit in silence, appreciating how he simply nodded her way when he caught her, not too miffed at her eating his food. “Did you come here for a holiday?” She asked, striking up a conversation.

He tilted his head to the side, thinking. The bright lights seemed to highlight his jawline perfectly, because Marinette couldn’t stop her eyes from trailing downward. “For business mostly, but I suppose Gra— _my brother_ might consider this a holiday.”

“Must be nice to have so many siblings.”

Damian huffed, folding his arms the way Alya’s younger sisters did when they heard something they didn’t like. “They’re not my siblings.”

“You just said you had a brother though?”

Damian spluttered, mouth moving as he protested mutely, unable to come up with a convincing response. “It’s not fun,” he said instead, replying to her initial comment.

Marinette smiled behind her hands at his petulant behaviour, not yet brave enough, or close enough to him to laugh at him to his face. “I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

“I was too, once.” Damian’s eyes had a misty quality to them that Marinette wasn’t sure she wanted to touch on. Instead, she latched on to what felt like the only tangible part of what he said.

“Are you adopted?”

Damian all but hissed, leaning over the table to exclaim his response. “I’m the blood heir! The rest of _them_ were adopted!”

She leaned back into her seat, surprised by his outburst.

Prepared to spend the rest of the hour suffering in heavy silence, Marinette was almost grateful to see a large, thorn breaking through the bakery window, engraving itself deep into the floor.

It shook the building down to its foundations, leaving the counter and the cakes it displayed utterly obliterated. Marinette coughed, inhaling a lungful of dust and debris caused by the projectile, wheezing out a breath. Her heart thrummed as she readied herself for a battle.

“I have to go!” She and Damian said in sync. She let him leave, expecting his worry for his family, and preoccupied with planning how to get to the Akuma.

Marinette let out a quiet “sorry,” as she trapped her parents in the back room, locking the door on them so they would be safe without noticing her absence.

“Tikki, spots on!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhh so this is actually only half of my original plan for chapter 4 so I guess you can expect chapter five soon. I was so excited for the fight but chapter 4 got so long and I felt that the fight deserved it’s own chapter and I didn’t want too many events in one chapter because it’d feel too cluttered oh man.
> 
> But also! Daminette!!!!! 
> 
> Classic Bruce gets there secret identities to arrive later than their hero ones to avoid suspicion. We got our first peek at Tim, and a mention of Jason. If anyone’s wondering why Chloe only mentioned three sons,,, Duke in this canon is still being fostered and is yet to be adopted and Jason’s legally dead so ye theres that.


	5. Chapter Five: I've Got A Bud Feeling About This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight!

The Akumatised person they were fighting was called ‘Bud Omen,’ which was considerably better than at least half of Chat’s puns. **  
**

Before his akumatisation ‘Bud Omen’ was a passionate gardener, and from what Marinette could put together, people kept tearing and uprooting his lovely roses. She only wished his anger granted him a non-aggressive ability.

Now, he was an instrument for Hawkmoth, dressed in green leaves, with long, wide, red petals extending from his neck, looking almost like a dog cone. Both his hands had been replaced red flower buds, which didn’t look particularly attractive.

One of Hawkmoths worst designs yet, Marinette decided. The outfit was simply outrageous.

“Finally!” Queen Bee (Chloe), said in lieu of greeting. “Carapace got turned into a cactus, and—“ She was cut off by a giant thorn aimed straight for the two of them. The girls rolled out of the way just in time for the projectile to crash land onto the street and reduce the roads to crumbling pieces. “And this idiot won’t stop throwing thorns at me!”

Queen Bee had turned to yell the last bit at Bud Omen, who threw yet another thorn at her. (Surprise, surprise.)

“Nobody can stop me!” Bud Omen announced. “Not until people learn to respect my flowers!”

Bud Omen extended an arm, though instead of manifesting a giant thorn, a bright green beam shot out towards Queen Bee. Marinate pulled her aside with her yoyo, watching with wide eyes as the red Toyota behind Bee transformed into a succulent, sitting comfortably inside a brown pot. “That’s what happened to Carapace,” Queen Bee said. “I think his right-hand shoots out thorns, and his left-hand does _that_.”

A dual wielder then. Lucky for him, unlucky for her. “Well it’s creative, I’ll give ‘im that.”

Queen Bee ducked to the side as another thorn was launched in her direction. “I can’t get close enough to use my venom!” She cried, hissing as her hands grazed gravel to prevent the rest of her body from sliding across the ground.

If Bee couldn’t use her power then she was likely to become a quick liability. “Prioritise getting people to safety! I’m sure I can hold out, at least until Chat gets here.”

Queen Bee nodded her head in affirmation, sprinting away to rescue innocents. Taking some time to assess her surroundings, Marinette deduced the safest way to apprehend the villain. Or at least the safest place to direct it. 

There was a park nearby, she remembered, open and wide enough to minimise potential damage created by the thorns, and easy to evacuate as it would give her clear vision of any innocents. “Hey! Uh, flower power!” Marinette called, using her yoyo to sweep Bud Omen to the floor. He saved his fall by extending his arms, but the flowers that replaced his hands wilted and bent out of shape from the impact.

It looked like they were real flowers and susceptible to damage. That was sure to be useful for later. Bud Omen grunted as he rose, running after Marinette who was already on her way to the park. “Clear out!” She yelled as she approached. “Akuma!”

The citizens complied easily, filing out in rushed lines like a disturbed ant farm. She was barely a few feet within the park grounds when was pushed forward by a harsh force, the right side of her back aching as she was forced to eat grass. She heard Bud Omen’s stilted laugh and winced. He’d nailed her in the back with a thorn. It hurt like crazy, throbbing as she tried to get back on her feet, but she counted herself lucky he hadn’t gone and turned her into a cactus instead. 

She was saved from further pain when she was scooped into the arms of a familiar black-clad hero. “Chat!” She exclaimed, relieved.

“Looks like it’s not _growing_ very well, M’Lady,” Chat grinned, setting her down to her feet. The park was now suffering from a decent-sized crater, green thorn sticking out of it. 

They hid together behind a particularly wide tree, peeking out from the sides to check on Bud Omen. “Watch out for his left, Chat, you don’t want to become a cactus.” 

“We’ll just have to end it quickly then.”

“That’ll be a bit of a problem,” Marinette admitted. “I’m not exactly sure where the Akuma would be, just that the flower-hands are damageable.”

“_Peony_ for your thoughts?”

“Think you can get to him without getting hit?”

Chat puffed his chest, bringing his hands to his waist. “Of course I can, bugaboo, you just have to _beleaf_ in me!”

Chat Noir jumped out from behind the tree, rolling under thorns and jumping over cactus-transforming beams with lithe granted to him by his miraculous. Aiming straight and true, he leaped straight toward Bud Omen.

The villain had no choice but to parry the close-quarters attack with an arm block. He growled as one of his petals fell, bruised and brown. “How dare you!” He exclaimed. 

Chat hardly had enough time to fall flat on his stomach, barely avoiding a thorn missile to the face. At such close quarters, a hitting move would definitely have taken him out of commission. Her partner showed grace true to his animal, flipping over following beam attacks from Bud Omen. He must have been getting pointers from Nightwing or something, because his usually already-impressive combinations had well smoothed out, and he was confidently executing tumbles he hadn’t proved to know earlier. 

Timing her attack just right, she waited for the exact moment his hands swept upward, eyes narrowed in concentration. Now! Spotting her window of opportunity, Marinette flung her yoyo at the villain, tying his hands together. 

“Uh-oh,” Chat grinned at Bud Omen, “looks like you might be in a bind?”

“You won’t be able to stop me so easily!”

Chat smiled, showing off his canines. He always looked just a touch wild when he was truly excited during a fight. “When I got closer I saw a necklace, M’Lady, might be where the Akuma is hidden.”  
  
Finally, a lead! Marinette returned her partner’s smile, digging her heels into the ground as she prepared to end the match. “Let’s get it then, Minou!”

Bud Omen growled. Too stubborn to stop even while obviously detained, Bud Omen shot another beam at Chat Noir. Though Marinette was sure her partner could evade it, she had never been the type to sit back and watch where she could intervene. With a yank, she changed the course of the shot.

It would have been the perfect stop had a new body not occupied the previously empty spot that Bud Omen’s beam was now redirected to.

“Move!” Chat bellowed, springing into action. There was a bright light as the beam made contact, and her blonde partner was left to sit on the floor as a cactus in a pot. 

The newcomer who he’d saved was sprawled on their back, eyebrows in an all-too-familiar furrow.

Marinette gaped. “Robin?”

He dusted himself off, nose wrinkling at the sight of the cactus that was once Chat. “I could have avoided the attack on my own.” He said, “your partner was foolish.”

“Chat is a hero!” Marinette retorted, not at all appreciating Robin’s apparent lack of gratitude. “He helped you because that’s what heroes do.”

A thorn shot to the ground between the two of them, its impact shaking the ground enough for the two heroes to stumble, unbalanced. 

“Shit,” Marinette cursed under her breath. Her grip on her yoyo had loosened thanks to Robin’s sudden appearance, and now they were back to square one. 

Robin tutted. “Should have held on tighter.”

“We don’t have time for this!”

The two of them ducked behind the wide end of the thorn, hiding from the trigger happy villain who seemed intent on turning them both into cacti. “We need to come up with a plan,” Marinette said, thinking back on what she knew. “His flowers can probably be destroyed, and I think he can only use one at a time.”

Robin scoffed, unsheathing the katana attached to his hip. “I have it handled.”

His first step out from behind the shelter of the thorn was celebrated by a yellow body slamming right onto him.  
  


Queen Bee rolled off him, obviously miffed. “What were you doing in my way?” she demanded. 

So brat meets brat. Really, what a great day for Marinette.

“Me? What were you doing in my way?”

“As far as I know it’s my father whose Mayor of Paris not yours. This park is Paris public property, so I’ll ask again. What were you doing in my way?

It was astounding, the leaps and bounds in logic that Chloe could make. Even more so was the way that Robin looked prepared to argue back as though what she was saying was actually relevant in any way at all. She clapped her hands to get their attention. “Queen Bee, this is Robin, Robin this is Queen Bee. Alright now that you’ve met each other, it’s time to make a plan.”

She thought she sounded authoritative enough, but as soon as she was finished talking the two were back at it again. Is this how teachers normally felt? So dejected? “They should call you Bumble, since that’s all you seem to do.”

“Oh? Do people call you unnecessary annoyance, since that’s all you seem to be.”

“Well, well, well. Looks like Hawkmoth will be happy with me.”

That was certainly not Bee or Robin, and they certainly sounded very close. As if Bud Omen had snuck up on them while they were arguing. 

Slowly, the three teens turned, to be met with the towering figure of the villain. They reacted automatically. Marinette swept at Bud Omen’s legs, watching with satisfaction as he fell. A sting from Bee’s ‘venom’ came a second later, paralysing Bud Omen as a Batarang shot out and shattered the silver string around his neck. 

In the blink of an eye, the fight was over, and all Marinette could feel was dumbfounded.

She purified the Akuma, and watched as the city was restored, feeling relief fill her as her partner returned to his cat-clad state. 

“See how helpful I can be now that I have my miraculous permanently?” Bee asked, smug.

Marinette sighed. “It’s still temporary, just longer this time. Until we’ve beaten Hawkmoth for good. Hawkmoth and err… Queen Bee.”

“We should do something about that,” Chat said, coming closer to the little huddle. Robin sniffed as though he was unimpressed, but his eyes shifted to Queen Bee expectantly.

The group fell into a momentary hush, shattered by a disgruntled Bee. “Are you guys serious? You want the villain to keep her name?”

“Well if we knew where she was, we’d ask,” Chat snarked in return. Seeing how she was genuinely upset by the idea, his approach softened. “Just until we take her down, Bee.”

“Ugh, I so don’t have time for this right now.”

Right, she’d used her big move and all. Marinette stole a glance at the hairpin, counting the stripes. There were still two left, which gave them about three or so minutes to figure it out. 

Chat extended his baton, pushing a few buttons. “It’s easy. Just google types of bees. Or even easier call yourself abeille”

Amused, Marinette let out a chuckle. “Seriously Chat? Google? Is that how you got your name?”

Her partner made a face. “Well no, but if I hadn’t been so clever from the beginning it’s what I’d probably do. So, Google search?”

Bee groaned, but didn’t argue. The four of them huddled closer together, leaning in to look at Chat’s baton screen as he did he a quick google search. 

“Ooh! You could call yourself carpenter bee!”

Chloe glowered at Chat, who had the sense to swipe out of the page quickly.

Not one to sit in silence, Robin tutted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Strange how there’s no imbecile bee. Would have been fitting for you.”

That comment earned Robin a swift kick from the blonde heroine. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him, however, as he didn’t do anything to retaliate.

“What about Andrena?” Marinette suggested, reading from the search options. 

Chloe clicked her tongue, looking quite unhappy. “Well if you think so Ladybug… Then fine. Andrena. But only until we beat that awful hag. Then I’ll be Queen Bee again.”

“Thanks for your co-operation, Andrena.”

Andrena’s miraculous beeped, ending the conversation before she and Robin could fight again (who knew there’d be someone else to butt heads with him so aggressively?) “Well, we might as well all get going,” Marinette said, waving the group farewell.

She ran a couple meters until she was sure it was safe to detransform, only doing so when she was safely tucked away in the crevice of an alleyway.

Tikki flopped into her bag, eager for some cookies. Seeing as there was nowhere she had to be for the time being, she took a moment to breathe, resting her head against the cool brick wall behind her. Her back still ached.

Today was a bit of a mess. She and Robin still lacked the synergy to fight well together, and adding Andrena to the mix seemed to make everything even more explosive. 

There was the fact that Robin was so dismissive of Chat’s help too. She figured why; his admission that night was pretty direct (_don’t think about what happened after, don’t think don’t think don’t think – yeah she was blushing again_) but that didn’t mean it was nice or right of him to brush Chat’s actions off to the side like that. 

“Marinette?”

Her head shot up, meeting the poorly disguised concern in Damian Wayne’s eyes. Why he was in this side of Paris, she had no idea, and really, it was inconvenient for him to bump into her while she was doing some deep thinking. Like, did he want her to get distracted and think of something stupid? Probably not, he wasn’t so bad after all, and oh god she hadn’t replied yet. 

“Yes.” Well. That wasn’t any less awkward than the silent eye contact. “I mean, yes! Hello!”

Damian snorted, finding humour in her inability to function like a normal human being. Curse her wandering mind! “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the bakery or something?” 

“Uhhh… I got turned into a cactus! Yeah, I was a cactus and I guess someone carried me here or something… HAHAHaha…ha…ha.” She scratched the back of her neck, eyes looking everywhere but his face. She couldn’t even look in his direction until she heard him snigger. 

“Alright then, do you need help going back to the bakery? It’s a bit of travel on foot, and my brother will be around with the car in a moment.”

Marinette searched his eyes. Satisfied when she found nothing but sincerity, she nodded her head. “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to apologise bc of how weak the writing is in this chap :(( sorry lads
> 
> I feel like I might’ve missed something while editing this so give me a heads up if there’s something I need to fix. It’s 100% not my best chapter, but I had to get it out and over with. Good news is that this chap ends w promise of future Daminette which is something I’m really excited about!
> 
> Also! The Queen Bee problem has been temporarily resolved!!! Sort of. Hurdles up ahead, but hey it’s just how it be I guess


	6. Chapter Six: Thinking, Lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growth! Ladybug and Robin might not be at odds anymore, and some weird guy with a white streak in his hair helps Mari out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mention of suicidal intent. I’ll mark the passage with two asterisks (**) before it starts and two when it ends. It’s really short and the rest of the scene will still make sense without it.

The thing about Paris being so bright, even at night, was that it was hard for Marinette to fear the things that went ‘bump’ in the night as a child because she was usually able to identify the source of the sound. That absence of terror followed her through adolescence and was probably the reason she felt so comfortable sitting on her balcony rail at two in the morning, when the night sky an inky, unending expanse, and the world was asleep. Everything that couldn’t be explained away by childhood pluckiness could be attributed to being granted magic via miraculous, _and there lay the problem._

The park plan was weak. Now that she was divorced from the situation, she could clearly see that her plan consisted of blunder after blunder, and it was only luck that helped her capture the Akuma. Luck, and Andrena’s fast paralysis. 

Robin had told her in one of their earliest patrols that she relied too much on her miraculous. Of course it was yelled in the heat of an argument, but he probably meant it, and he was probably right. She remembered clearly enough what he said; that she didn’t know danger because she had yet to truly experience it.

At the time, Marinette was too consumed by hurt pride to properly consider what he’d meant. Though she couldn’t bring herself to agree with him, she couldn’t help but think that there was merit to his criticism.

Marinette picked the park because it was a wide space, easy to clear of innocents, and easy to see in. She’d failed to consider that the visibility would likely give advantage to their long-ranged opponent, and that the lack of cover could increase the fatality of each attack that the villain sent.

She’d been overconfident, and until Robin and Andrena arrived, she had barely half an idea on how to beat the villain. But she hadn’t been scared, or at least not scared enough to think harder or work better. She hadn’t even stopped to check on Chat during or after his time as a cactus, because without realising it, she’d already accepted that it was something that could be reversed with a ‘Lucky Charm.’

In a way, it might have been better to just see the truth in that and not prod any further, but Marinette was an over-thinker through and through. Now that she’d come to this realisation she couldn’t help but wonder if she was being complacent with her duties. What if one day she came across a problem that couldn’t be solved with a chant of a charm. What would — what could she do then.

Marinette brushed a hand through her hair, closing her eyes as a cool breeze swept past her, bringing with it, an end to her introspection, at least for now. She tapped clean nails on the railing, bopping her head to the new rhythm, humming under her breath.

She should have seen him coming.

**“Don’t!”

She was pushed, not too harshly, back behind her white balcony rails, landing reflexively on her feet with bent knees. Perplexed, she looked up, astonished to see her new patrol partner, in all his traffic light glory, perched on her balcony, looking concerned. Concerned for her.**  
**

It took a moment to register his shout, but when she did, Marinette could only splutter out a breathless denial. “No! Oh geez, I wasn’t gonna jump, I swear!”**

Robin nodded firmly, but didn’t seem to accept the answer, if his analytical gaze was anything to go by. “Do you want to talk?” His voice was still gruff, but it was missing the harsh quality she’d gotten used to. To be honest she wasn’t exactly sure how to react to him when they weren’t fighting and he was acting so obviously kind.

“N-no, it’s fine. You can go back to what you were doing.”**  
**

He let himself into her room, took a seat on her chaise, and beckoned her over with a gloved hand. His thick brows were cocked, as if expectant, and she found very little choice but to oblige, so she settled beside him, offering him a cushion with wooden movements. This was far too strange for her liking.

“You looked deep in thought,” he commented lightly. She caught his eyes wandering, examining her room, and found that she didn’t really mind. It was a lot less ‘Adrien,’ than last year, but her crush had pretty much vanished completely as she learned to treasure him as a good friend. Where Adrien’s face used to be was now occupied by pictures of herself, her friends, her favourite looks and old design sketches she’d made and loved.

They looked nice, she thought, against the pink wallpaper. They looked like home.

“Yeah,” she agreed, unsure of what to say. “I guess I was… Thinking.”

She expected a snort from him, a huff maybe, or any assortment of disproving noise. Of course he knew she was thinking, he’d just commented that she was lost in thought! Instead he hummed like he agreed, and placed a hand on her shoulder, removing it a second later in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting pat.

“My… _Colleague_, Nightwing suggests exchanging questions might help. If you would like, you may ask me a question and I will do my best to answer truthfully.”

He looked just a little out of his depth, overly tense but clearly eager to do something to help. Marinette found that she liked this side of him, unexpected as it was. “I’d like that,” she replied.**  
**

Robin gave the briefest of grins.

“I was wondering… Why did you want to be a hero?”

“I’m a vigilante, I operate outside the law.”

Marinette could have probably helped her responding eye roll, but why bother. “The question’s the same. Why do you help people?”

Robin clicked his tongue, head turning a little to the left, away from her, as he thought. “At first, I believed that Robin was something I had the right to. That the position was important and that I was important because of it… Now… Well now I see that it is both my honour and my duty. Because I know things others do not, and because I can do things that others cannot, it’s the right thing for me to help. In the right way. Batman and Nightwing taught me that.”

Marinette squeezed his shoulder and shot him a small smile. As easy as he was to dislike, there was no denying he had heart. Intention was important to being a hero (which Robin was, despite his claims), and he had good intentions in spades. Truthfully, he was a good hero. _Was Ladybug a good hero? Did people think Ladybug was good?_

“My turn,” Robin asserted. His face finally turned back to look at her, and in his eyes she saw nothing but blazing honesty. “How are you?”

There were a lot of questions he could’ve asked at that moment. Many more she would have been happy to answer without much thought. But he asked that in particular, and she had a feeling he had been waiting to ask. He’d let her ask first, and her question was hardly easy to answer, but he did it so she could feel comfortable. So he could prove he was good. _Did he always work so hard to prove himself?_

The least she could do in thanks was to reply honestly. “I’m okay I think. For the most part, anyway. Sometimes… I just get tired.”**  
**

“Physical comfort can relieve stress. Would you like a hug?” The ‘Nightwing says’ that prefaced the question was left unsaid, but Marinette heard it loud and clear anyway. Her lips split to a toothy grin, and she couldn’t help but giggle a little at him. He was so stiff, almost robotic sometimes when he spoke, and Marinette thought it was strange he could be so uncomfortable with showing kindness when it was clear that it came so naturally to him.

“I’d really like that, actually.”

This second hug was much more comfortable than the first that surprised her during one of their patrols (technically speaking this was their third hug but there was no way Marinette was counting the disaster of what happened after Robin ditched the meeting), and now that she was prepared for it, Marinette could appreciate it.

The first thing she noticed was that’s the material of his costume felt pretty similar to leather. After that, the warmth of his hold registered, along with the firmness of his grip. His fingers were glued together like he was some sort of mannequin. It was probably a practiced pose, she surmised. It was funny and a little bit saddening that he had to train in something that should be simple and familiar to him. Maybe this hug wasn’t just for her?

He disconnected from her after a count of ten, finally looking satisfied that she was okay. “I’ll be leaving now,” he announced. Quieter, and less confident, he continued. “And… ahem… I care.”**  
**

He jumped off her balcony rather dramatically and disappeared into the night. She didn’t bother trying to make out his shape in the shadows, electing instead to shut her door and get some sleep.

Marinette’s head felt heavy as lead when she awoke (earlier than her alarm for once), but her eyes blinked open without too much protest, and her mouth moved to form a smile automatically. The events of last night were still fresh on her mind.

Yesterday she saw a new side of Robin, one she couldn’t have known he was capable of had he not shown her himself. He cared about his job, and he cared about the people. He cared about her.

The weekend was a welcome break from the usual hubbub that was her life, a much-needed peace. Her morning was spent perusing her collection of cloth samples to find the best match for her new summer dress idea. Anything within the cotton family was usually ideal for keeping cool, and Marinette had her eyes set on a square of grey-tinted, light blue chambray. But she hadn’t ever been fond of chambray dresses… Maybe a romper? Decisions, decisions…

She placed the square down with a huff, eyeing it critically beside her newly revised design. The thing about sketching something new was that she’d probably be needing more fabric, and frankly, she really wasn’t up for walking a whole block to get an extra meter. She glanced back at the design and groaned. She could almost feel it stare back, begging to be made. It’d look so much cuter on a person than on the page…

Marinette stomped her feet, just a little irritated with herself, but too overtaken by excitement to feel any sort of real anger. A quick snack, and then she’d go. With luck, she wouldn’t encounter any distractions and she could come back before one o’clock to finish her piece.

Trailing down wooden steps was a challenge with fuzzy socks on, but she didn’t fall once (don’t act too shocked, now), so she was in a relatively good mood as she entered the family bakery. “Hi maman!” Marinate greeted cheerily, giving her mom a swift kiss on the cheek.**  
**

“Marinette!” Her mother beamed, “perfect timing! I was just about to call you dear, your new friend is here.”

_New friend?_

Slowly, she pivoted on her heel. “Ah!” Marinate startled, placing a hand against her chest. She leaned against her mother, heart still pounding from shock.

It was less Damian’s presence that surprised her, and more his watchful eyes glaring straight at hers, unblinking as she saw him for the first time that day.

He was sipping calmly from his cup of tea, sniggering openly into his cup, as his brother (woah Dick Grayson was dreamy when he laughed) turned in his seat her an apologetic smile. “Hey there, Marinette right?”

“Uh… Yeah.”

Dick grinned, leaning on the back of his seat to get a good look at her face. “I was worried when Dami disappeared yesterday, and when I asked him where he went, he gave me a slice of Gâteau Basque, and I knew I had to come try all the other cakes. Your parents are really good bakers, Marinette.”

He had an energy to him that made him feel welcoming, and seeing Damian scowl at the back of Dick’s head struck her as familiar for reasons she wasn’t quite sure about yet. “Thanks! How’d you guys get here without getting caught by Paparazzi? I saw your other brother get hounded by a bunch of cameras like an hour ago on the news.”

Damian smiled, teeth bared like some sort of feral animal. “We used our superior evasive techniques.” Marinette was tempted to take a step back. Damian didn’t seem like the smiling type, and that look only barely passed as a smile.

Dick sighed tiredly, though his eyes, trained on his little brother, were still fond. “He tipped the paps off about Tim and took the long way ‘round them. They were easy to avoid ‘cause they were all swarming Tim…”

Marinette felt her lip twitch upward. It wasn’t that she approved of his actions, or that she wanted to encourage it, in fact she was sure Ladybug should feel upset about it. Marinette was bemused. “Sounds superior alright,” she allowed. She waved them goodbye as she made her way out of the store, stopped only by the sound of her mother clearing her throat.

“Marinette?”**  
**

She turned. “Yes?”

“Your shoes.”

Oh. Right, she’d come down to get a snack before leaving. Dick and Damian’s eyes felt like heat lamps against her cheeks, and she did her best to hide behind her hair as she ran back up to her room to slip on her flats.

She sped past the boys, shooting Damian a look when she heard him snicker at her. Her maman was waiting by the door, tin-foil wrapped croque-monsieur extended out to her. Marinate gave her mother a grateful hug, impatient to leave, and even more impatient to get her design started.

‘Lemon Crafts’ always seemed to smell vaguely of lemon zest and fabric softener, the most pleasing combination to Marinette’s nose, and she’d frequent more often than she already did if their yellow lights weren’t so painfully bright. It was lucky for Marinette that she could comb through racks and cloth bins of fabric with her eyes shut; the store was almost a second home to her.**  
**

They hardly ever re-arranged their layout, and the speakers were always broken so that a solid thrum of bzz rang through in a delightful tenor that flittered to the back of her mind, and out of her thoughts. Regardless of the time of day, or year, the place managed to look, sound, and feel the same. Marinette felt it was a sort of liminal space, one that was oh so easy to peruse and lose track of reality within.

Today, however, she had her eye on her phone as she sped to aisle three, skipping through a tempting assortment of prints and cloths to find the specific roll of cotton.

There was a tingling that started on the back of her neck that trailed down the base of her spine, which left her feeling antsy and uncomfortable. She heard the familiar click as her purse opened from the inside and kept her back straight and walking pace steady as Tikki stuck her head out.

If her Kwami had suddenly gone alert as well, nothing good could be happening. Or maybe it was something exceptionally good? Probably not, but optimism was always welcome.

“Marinette!” Tikki hissed quietly. Subtle as she could, Marinette looked down at her purse, at Tikki who’s head was hardly peeking out. “The man behind the cashier won’t stop looking at you. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

Marinette looked at him from the corner of her eyes, hands running over denim blends, pretending to examine them. He looked young, just a little older her, probably in his first year of university. His brown curls were tucked behind him in a low pony, earrings dangling from his elf-like ears. He didn’t look particularly dangerous. “I think it’s fine, Tikki, she whispered.”

Tikki let out a disproving sound, but didn’t say anything else, choosing instead to settle herself back in Marinette’s bag.

The chambray was where it was the last time she’d come and bought it. Ten meters seemed excessive for a romper, but it’d be nice to have a collection with a running theme, and the fabric was just begging to be bought.

But was it worth it? 10 meters really was a lot, and it was expensive too! It was sixty-five euros, and while she had that money, she might have something more worthwhile to buy at a later date.

“Marinette he’s still looking at you!”

Her head raised to meet the cashier’s unfeeling, brown eyes.

She dropped the fabric like it was on fire, and left the store, walking as naturally as she could. Her skin itched, feeling his hard stare on her back, and she wanted nothing more than to sprint out of the store.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t ever remembered seeing him, and she knew almost everyone who worked at ‘Lemon Crafts’ on weekends because she visited so often. She really should have listened to Tikki earlier.

She barely made it out of the door, when her ankle twisted painfully, and she tumbled down to the ground.

Marinette gasped as she fell in what felt like slow motion, bag slipping from her hold as it slid against the pavement and away from her. Her blazer fluttered in beats, arms reaching out to catch her body before her brain could even fully comprehend her descent.

Her bag skidded to a stop, the lucky charm Adrien gifted her dropped to the floor with a click, yet she remained suspended, the tips of her toes the only part of her body still flat on the ground, the rest of herself held up by a grip on the back of her blazer.

“Geeze kid,” a rough voice greeted her, as her faceless saviour entered her line of sight, placing her back down. He was smirking at her, as though entertained by her clumsiness, face framed with wild black hair, marred by a strip of white. “Careful next time, yeah?”

Marinette nodded mutely, accepting her dropped items from the kind stranger. She watched his back as he left, hands in his pockets, strides wide and confident. He turned the corner, fluid as water, and slipped out of sight.

Strangely enough, he reminded her of Robin.

* * *

Marinette sat rigidly on one of the many beams that supported the Eiffel Tower. Her hands folded on her lap, too frozen with embarrassment to brush away the hair of her pigtails that were whipping her face thanks to the force of the winds.**  
**

Robin sat on the other side, far looser, with legs swinging, though his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

Between them, ice-cream from Andre’s melted, untouched.

“How can I give you my apology ice-cream if you won’t even look at me?” Robin huffed.

She wondered if there was a difference anymore, between her mask and her cheeks, or if she looked like a tomato with legs. She turned her head to the side, unable to make eye contact with him, as she spoke. “I can’t look at you without thinking of _that night_.”

You were fine yelling at me just yesterday against that grossly garish villain.”

“Believe it or not, an Akuma is a great distraction.”

“I would argue that the Akuma was the goal and that _the night_ is the distraction.”

“You would argue about anything, Robin.”

Marinette knew he was making faces at her behind her back when he didn’t reply instantly. She could probably operate like this for the rest of their time together, staring at rusted metal instead of his face. She already knew he was rolling his eyes, anyway.**  
**

Robin let out a familiar ‘Tt,’ and sighed dramatically. The old iron whined as Robin shifted. “If you’re still hung up about the kiss—“

“It wasn’t a kiss!”

“Well. Anyway—“

Marinette turned to face him at last, insistent and overflowing with humiliation. “It wasn’t!”

And it really wasn’t. The night had started out almost fine. Robin was in the middle of a tantrum so there was that, but he was relatively nice, and she was doing a favour for Chat which was always good for supplying warm fuzzies.

_~~~yes this is a flashback lmao~~~_

Marinette had found him on a tree at Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, one knee bent to his chest, while his other swung loose and free, like it was at present. He hadn’t seemed surprised to see her come, though he was notably disgruntled.**  
**

“What do you want?” He had demanded, though less acidic than usual.

Marinette had shrugged and walked closer. “Just seemed like the right thing to do. Can I sit with you?”

“It’s your city.”

She used her yoyo to swing herself up, landing beside him with a thud, rustling leaves, her added weight pushing down on Damian’s branch. “It’s your tree. For now, anyway.”

They sat like that for half an hour, almost, just staring out at the park, and the late-night walkers, with their partners and their dogs. After that, the two of them started calling out dog-breeds they could see, and only when it was around two in the morning did the proper conversation start.

“Mind telling me why you stormed out?”

Robin’s response was bitten out with a certain degree of aggression. “Are you my therapist now?”

Marinette had shook her head, a little disappointed in her partner, but hardly surprised. “No, but you’re my partner now. I guess I’m a little worried.”

“It won’t affect my performance if that’s what you mean.”

Marinette knocked his elbow with her own, frowning. “No, I’m worried about _you_.”**  
**

Robin had turned his head to look at her faster than she’d ever seen him move before. He looked completely distrusting, but his eyes couldn’t lie, and in them she saw hope. “Why would you do that,” he’d sneered, upper lip curling.

“I’m not sure,” she had answered honestly. “Feelings are just like that.”

“If you mean to say that emotions cannot be rationalised, then you’re incorrect… But, thank you, I suppose.”

It was the first genuine thanks he’d ever willingly given her, and she was floored when she heard it. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it, but now, knowing a little more about his past, and a little more about him (yes, she was still thinking about how sad it was that he didn’t know how to hug properly), her mind lingered on the moment. Why did he look so in disbelief that she would care about him?

“I’m experiencing what many would call jealousy,” he admitted, snapping a twig between his fingers. His eyes were set on the moon, but it was clear that his attention wasn’t. “Your partner— your _other_ partner (The difference between the two was clear now. He was distinguishing between himself and his ‘rival’ and she hadn’t even noticed), seems to get along well with mine.”

Her heart had sunk at his admission, taking it as a jab against herself as a person. “Oh. Sorry, I guess. I’m sure Chat wouldn’t mind a patrol with you—“**  
**

“No!” Robin almost bellowed. He had looked completely against the idea. “I’m not jealous of their relationship in that I want it, well.” He let out a frustrated growl. “It’s not that I want us to be like them. Neither of us are irritatingly chatty or bright, we wouldn’t be able to emulate it anyway. No, I’m jealous because your other partner has enamoured mine.”

“I’m sure Nightwing loves you too.”

“I know he does,” Robin whispered back, almost afraid to say the words aloud. “But not at first. And not for a while. I’m sure my personality had a part to play with it, but… Well he liked Chat Noir from the beginning— he wanted Chat Noir from the beginning. Makes me wish I had that luxury.”

_He loves you now. I can see in how he looked out you, how he reached out, he loves you now. _There were a lot of things Marinette could have said in response, ‘he loves you now, included. Instead, she said nothing, and sat with him in silence, enjoying the browning leaves and almost comfortable seat on their tree-branch.

Her pocket buzzed. Almost embarrassed to have ruined the contemplative mood, she had pulled it out in a rush, shrieking when it slipped from her grip and plummeted down.**  
**

She went after it on instinct, momentarily forgetting her peculiar position on a tree, and found the rest of her body following after her phone.

Robin had reacted quickly, diving after her, holding her in a compact hold, his hand on her head to protect her from the fall. He rolled them over so that his back hit the ground first, but the momentum was too much, and they found themselves smashing against one another, lips smacking ungracefully, teeth knocking and foreheads rapping against one another. She rolled off him, hand over her mouth, stunned silent.

_Their lips met._

_Did that count as a kiss?_

_Surely not…_

_No way she could’ve just had her first kiss…_

_No way!_

Robin’s mind hadn’t been as occupied, and he’d simply gotten to his feet, brushing himself off as he spat out a wad of blood. She could spot the gash on his upper gum where her two front teeth had tapped his mouth after their not kiss, and she would have felt a little bad if it weren’t for the fact that “you kissed me!”

Robin looked up at her, uninterested. “It was hardly a kiss, besides, you wounded me.”**  
**

“But you kissed me!”

“I didn’t intend to. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saved you, you’re welcome by the way.”

“You kissed me!”

Robin rolled his eyes, checking his utility belt to see if anything had fallen. “Fine, fine, I kissed you.”

It was silly, she knew that then, and she was reminded of how silly she was every time she remembered that night, because her reply would likely make her cringe for the rest of her life. “That was _not_ a kiss!”

Silence fell between them, as Robin raised his brows, a smirk forming it’s way on his face. “Oh? But you said it was a kiss.”

All coherent thought left her mind, and was replaced by loud screaming that was barely louder than the beating of her overactive heart. Blood rushed to her head so fast a headache began to form, and her knees went weak. “It wasn’t!” Even to her ears, the argument was weak.

Robin leered, moving closer. She took a step back for every step he took forward. “But you said it was?”

“I was wrong!” Her back had reached the base of the tree, and Robin was still advancing.

“Unsurprising, but I think this time you might be right.” He leaned in so that he was mere centimeters away from her face, but he didn’t come any closer.

Right as she was about to stutter out another half-baked response, he broke out into snickers that tiptoed the edge of laughter.

She hadn’t ever heard him laugh before. It was husky, more breath than voice, but it was pleasing to the ear. He looked a lot younger when he laughed, a certain lightness took over his whole body, and she remembered he was just a kid, like her. She wished he’d laugh more.

Mortified about what had occurred, she wasn’t exactly happy with the situation, but she couldn’t bring herself to be mad, when he looked like _that_.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

“You said it was a kiss?”

Marinette, not willing to have a repeat of their past conversation, shoved a spoonful of ice-cream in her mouth.

Robin tutted again, his trademark at this point, but this time the corners of his mouth were turned upward, and she found herself minding it less.

“It wasn’t a kiss,” she said at last. “My first kiss is going to be with someone I like, and it’s going to be a choice. That was an accident, and it doesn’t count.”

“Okay,” Robin agreed.

Marinette smiled.

“Ladybug?”

She looked at him, properly this time, and without any blushing. “Hm?”

“Why are you a hero?”

A little stunned to hear her own question repeated back at her (not that Robin knew she was the one who asked him), it took a moment for her to even comprehend it. Why was she a hero?

Because she was chosen?

No, she had tried to give away that responsibility once before, but she kept the job for a reason.

“Because I was given the opportunity to help,” she said, finally. “One that a lot of people don’t get. I found that even if I thought I didn’t want the responsibility at first, I couldn’t turn the job down. What about you?”

Robin’s nose turned up to the air once again, reminding Marinette of what a brat her partner truly was. “Because lesser people need someone like me.”

Silly bird. If he hadn’t helped her out, back when she was a civilian, she might have taken his response for its face value. But there was no way she could, knowing what she knew. “I bet you secretly have a really nice reason, you just don’t want to tell people.”

“Don’t act imbecilic. Of course I don’t.”

“Uh huh, sure you don’t”

“Eat your ice-cream and shut up.”

Marinette laughed, extending the cup to him. He took a small bite, nose wrinkling. He kept saying he didn’t like sweets and he kept acting like it too, but he could’ve turned her offer down and they both knew it. What a little liar she had as a partner.

It was the same combination as last time, only tonight Andre had decorated it with black sprinkles and a small, white marshmallow on top. Robin let her have it, not a fan of them, but he said nothing about the sprinkles.

It was divine on her tongue, melting almost instantly (though most of it was soup at this point), coating her mouth in a thick swirl of black and red. “What was this an apology for anyway?”

“I may have spoken out of turn when we fought Bud Omen. Nightwing suggested that I bring a token of apology.”

“Are you gonna get me an ice-cream every time you say something rude? Because I’m not sure you could afford that.”

Robin snorted, taking another bite of the ice cream. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

And really, she couldn’t. She thought she knew her partner that she had his whole personality down when they’d first met, and even more so during their first patrol. But Marinette found that the more time passed, the less she felt she knew about him, and the more she wanted to learn.

She didn’t hate her partner, of that she was sure. In fact, she might even be starting to like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘like’ is platonic, unfortunately, but we’re not they’re yet. We’ll get there eventually though! Their relationship is starting to shift now that they know more about each other ayyy. This chapter was really all about growth on Marinette’s side. Changing feelings about what it means and what it takes to to be a good hero, and changing relationships with her new partner.
> 
> Also! First glance of Jason, yeah the white streaked guy was Jason I really wasn’t tryna be subtle about it. What’s up with the weird cashier tho? And yes! Now you know what happened that night. Nothing big or romantic, but Robin confessed he was feeling jealous and lips smashed. I wanted to bring it up now rather than earlier though bc I feel like Marinette can use this as an moment to really consider. This happened in the past, but I wanted it to be seen through current Marinette’s eyes
> 
> also if u have $3 to spare; https://ko-fi.com/doorbelle

**Author's Note:**

> Whew first patrol?? And hey my kids don’t completely hate each other! They just really don’t want to be there lol. Look forward to the upcoming chapters where y’all will see more of supportive best friend Chat, and Marinette meeting Dami!


End file.
